


Oil under the nails

by Anonymous



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mental Instability, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character, due to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Context: The Queen of the Constant had banished the former King to a sunless, near lightless world for a vast unknown amount of time, leaving only the caves as a false safe refuge.Sometime much, much later, the scientist faced exile for some slight or other, and there is nothing in the eternal empty darkness but each other and their ever growing madness.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48
Collections: Anonymous





	Oil under the nails

**Author's Note:**

> Context: The Queen of the Constant had banished the former King to a sunless, near lightless world for a vast unknown amount of time, leaving only the caves as a false safe refuge.
> 
> Sometime much, much later, the scientist faced exile for some slight or other, and there is nothing in the eternal empty darkness but each other and their ever growing madness.

It took a minute to actually get into the tent, tugging insistent hands and a mouth with too many sharp teeth nipping at his neck, but the instant they cleared the threshold in all its worn down, half rigged glory was the instant those self same hands tightened on him, that warm body pressing and rubbing against him with a desperation Wilson didn't want to acknowledge.

The other man's deformed hands, oily talons and blackened skin, were near nothing compared to the teeth he kept flinching from, finally wrestling into a position he was more comfortable with, more in control.

"You, ha…" The warmth, the touch was addling him a bit, and Wilson leaned forward, own clawed hands wrapped about his partners blackened wrists as he panted, shivering from the stimulation. "You used to be more, more patient-"

A choked sound escaped him, arching as one hand wiggled from his grasp and darted down to press against his groin with hardly any hesitation, roughly rubbing against him as a crooked grin lazily spread on the other mans face.

"Patience is a virtue, pal…" Those pitch black eyes shined, sparked and swirling with that hidden texture feeling of shadows, the smile somehow growing more crooked as Wilsons hips bucked into the touch, eyes closing as he shuddered in the sensation, half done as it was. 

That other hand easily slid from his grip as well, brushing smoothly up his arm to his shoulder, before grabbing on tight and sudden and jerking him down, warm breath against his ear and that hand still continuing its ministrations.

"And I am no saint, lost that a long time ago." Hissed into his ear, hot breathe and a whisper of lips ghosting his skin, and Wilson was barely holding on at this point, biting his lip as the heat and pressure below his belly grew.

It's just been too damn long, and Maxwell was being so, so insistent.

The other man breathed ragged, sharp and shallow, but when Wilson opened his eyes it was a pitch black stare that he saw, narrowed in amusing contentment, almost condescendingly pleased before those hands moved about again.

The one on his shoulder went up, brushing his neck and then digging, itching into his hair, firm and gentle and absolutely wonderful, making Wilson lean his head back into the touch, a low groan building in his throat. The other hand, however, pulled away from massaging him through his trousers.

Before a whine could be pulled out of him a different sound rose from his throat, near gasped as super heated skin came into contact with his belly, hot palm burrowing under his shirt and vest, then his pants, diving right to the part of his anatomy that was _very_ awake at the moment. Warm fingers came into contact with his bare erection, not even beating around the bush before his trousers were pushed down and his half hard cock was exposed to the stuffy air, and just like that Wilson was panting, no fan fair whatsoever as he was jerked off in the empty word space between them both.

That warm hand, those cruel looking talons kept smooth, steady, earnest as he gasped in and out, trying to calm himself, get back under control even as he heard the near giggled chuckle underneath him, eyes opening slightly to see the other man watching him with a satisfied, near crazed look on his face.

And all roughed up like he was too. Their little spat earlier had really not done any wonders for Maxwells looks, but he didn't look particularly pleasing to begin with.

And being down in these caves for who knows how long really seemed to have fucked him over. 

It took a bit of willpower, especially since his hips _were_ moving, little half thrusts as his mouth fell open and he panted for air, shuddering at the singing of his nerves and that rolling pressure building up inside himself, that warm hand just gentle enough, firm enough to keep him at it.

God, did fucking this hand seem to be in the forefront of his mind.

Wilson internally scolded himself, gritting his teeth into a bare almost snarl as he organized his thoughts from hazy pleasure and tempting bliss, the pressure increasing with every second he ignored it.

His own hands moved, one keeping his balance as his other went about his partners jacket, clumsily pushing and pulling and making an attempt at the buttons even as that hand pumped him, already streaked with his buildup pre, sucking in deep breathes of air.

"W-well, it does help a bit…" He got cut off as he heaved a gasp of air, shuddering as a thumb swiped under his head and sent shuddery static pleasure straight to his brain, breathe frozen in his throat before his cock throbbed and he almost tipped over the edge.

_God damn it._

"How so?" There was a snide teasing in that voice, as if he was untouched by this, by the scene of Wilson getting closer and closer to cumming just by a hand jerking him off.

He gave the man under him a look, eyes half closed and face close enough to a scowl, and with that he suddenly brushed that warm stroking hand away, pushing it down before fighting with the mans clothes, his suit jacket and undershirt and tunic and the other bits and pieces of overly complicated fashion and clothing. The buttons didn't give him much issue, but it was the clasps and ties that really got in his way.

"Helps make it so this is more than two minutes long." He deadpanned to the amusement of his partner, knowing he was being watched, knowing his little cock was throbbing, knowing it would take more than Maxwells newly monstrified hand to really get him off in a more satisfying way.

Thankfully the other man seemed to notice the aggravating clothing problem, sly grin crooked and toothy as his talons rose up to help Wilson undress him.

There still wasn't that usual slow methodical pace that Wilson was more familiar with; those talons pulled and tugged the suit jacket off, scraped his knuckles and brushed too sharp fingertips against his throat, and while the other man's clothing was indeed falling apart any more rough treatment may just tear it to shreds! It was enough for Wilson to bat away the talons and assert control, even as he bit his lip, ignored the way the other man was pushing his clothed hips up and rubbing against him in a very teasing fashion.

Those talons rose up again as he finally got his partner to shed his cumbersome clothing, a brief glimpse of pale bared skin crisscrossed with scars, bruises, before hot palms pressed to the sides of his head and he was nearly yanked down. Warm breath bathed his face, made him squint in discomfort as he tensed, just about to disengage before something wet and nippy got up close and personal to the side of his jawbone.

He could feel the rumble in Maxwell, that purr of a hum, not slow or content but much, much stronger, desperate, hoarse even. There was a certain level of wrongness to this, Wilson could _feel_ it, but then his partner arched up against him, hot bare chest against his still clothed one, groins pressing together as his cock rubbed against worn fabric, and with a shudder of breath the thought process let him be.

As Maxwell nipped his throat, licking and humming and rubbing tantalizingly against him, teasing and yet too firm to be a tease, Wilson got his act together through the fog of delicious sensations and placed his hands against the other man's chest.

He could feel his ribs, sticking out sharp, and the hollow swollenness of his gut, thin skin and bones, near no muscle tone or even a hint of fat deposit, nothing but a skeleton radiating heat and desperation, a manic air rising up like a cloud as Maxwells movements stuttered, then got more frantic. Every breath seemed to rattle in the older mans lungs, shuttered as Wilson let his hands explore the expanse of his gaunt sides, curve to his bony back briefly, the jagged understanding of malnutrition cutting through the more pleasurable activity they were engaged in.

"M, Max, when was the last time you, ah-!" His words cut off when there was a much sharper pinch to his neck, followed by a hot wet tongue and the soft pressure of lips, the sudden realization that the man was giving him a _hickey_ , of all things, rising in his head. His own claws had tightened about his partners sides as he withstood the attention, jaw grit tight as he breathed shallow, didn't dare move with those sharp teeth pressing so intimately close to his throat, and, with Maxwell acting this way, acting the way he has for awhile, Wilson still didn't trust him.

It near almost felt as if he was in front of a cornered animal at times, ready to snap and bite him at a moments notice, desperate and confused.

Which made this feel even worse, now that he thought about it, and with that Wilson pushed his words forward, forcing himself into taking deeper, calmer breathes.

"Maxwell, when, when was the last time you had a proper meal?"

"Is that really what you want to focus on right now!?" The snarling hiss was said against his neck, Wilson wincing at the wet pain that surely left a mark there. The thin body under him, running far too hot to feel normal, arched up against him again, talons dragging against his back, catching on his vest. "Pal, I have more pressing matters in mind."

A sharp tear, shred of fabric grabbed Wilsons attention, suddenly realizing that Maxwell had little to no respect for even Wilsons clothes, and with that he struggled to sit up and hurriedly shrug off his vest and shirt. Talons tugged, ripped seams as he was ushered on, pitch black eyes shiny and watching him as great heaving breaths rose through the thin ribcage before him. 

The bruises were everywhere, now that his eyes gazed over bone and skin. So too were scars, claw marks criss crossed and ugly patterns from teeth, the odd lump from broken bone healed wrong underneath, but perhaps his eyes lingered too long because Maxwells hollow face twisted near maniacal, snarling as he practically tore at Wilsons undershirt in a frenzied effort to rid him of it.

Just as he was about to argue about the roughness that mouth was assaulting his neck again, nipping and licking with too much haste, hot palms finally dragging down from his shoulders to palm his chest, running against his belly and then back to his ribs. 

"Will you just calm yourself-" 

Before he could even finish his sentence Maxwell dragged him down, bare chest against bare chest, and the thin man was running hot, a furnace of blistering near pain and the sparking touch of skin to skin washing through Wilsons brain like hot, spicy molasses. It's just been too long since he's been touched like this, and Maxwell was _desperate_.

The thing was, Maxwell was _never_ like this, not even at the worst of times. Something was horribly off about this, but Wilson could hardly form a coherent thought as one of those taloned hands snaked between their shuddering bodies and wrapped tight to his dick once more. The gasp it pulled out of him was unresistant, eyes half closed as he panted, as the pressure was coaxed back once more with a finesse he was more familiar with.

Maxwell was just always so damn good at getting him off sometimes.

That other hand was pressing to him, rubbing his side and grabbing, dragging talons lightly against his skin and pulling their bodies flush, and Wilson shuddered air into his lungs and let the man do as he saw fit, barely holding back from bucking into that warm grip.

Still, words did slither up from his brain, remembering what the other man had said to him earlier, before they had tumbled into this tent in a mess of limbs and arousal and near feral desperation. 

"Wait, Max, didn't you, ah~" A firm stroke had him drop his head down, gasping against the mans bare shoulder, his naked chest breathing shallow and fast against Maxwell's own. "Didn't you want to, ha, do something else-"

A shudder near made him cum, a taloned thumb rubbing circles under his cockhead almost teasingly as he panted, trying to organize himself with the waves of pleasure washing over him, bliss just out of reach as his hips twitched.

It was taking so much out of him, to not release here and now. With all his willpower, even Wilson couldn't last much longer if they kept this up.

His words, however, seemed to remind his partner of the same fact. 

With a low hiss that taloned hand removed itself from his throbbing cock, ignoring his weak whine at the loss of contact. Blinking open his eyes as Maxwell shifted, moved about, Wilson watched wide eyed as he realized the other man was shimmying out of his trousers. 

With Wilson's pants tangled down to his knees, and getting so much of that tantalizing physical attention, he had hardly noticed the state his partner was in.

Maxwell didn't waste time with a slow tease, tugging his underclothing down and not even giving Wilson a moment to take on what he was privy to, instead lunging and then dragging Wilson down atop him with a snarling cackle of a laugh, thin and almost mean spirited as his talons dug into Wilson's back.

"Complain, complain, complain. That's all you do, pal, you whine and groan and moan about every little thing I do." Maxwells voice was shuddering with his breath, just as affected by this whole thing, but his black eyes for a moment were sharp and unreadable. And then that glassy shadowy look slid in, and suddenly a great toothy grin was given to him, manic craze oozing off the man's expression. "Now, how about you shut your gob and _fuck me, Higgsbury?_ "

Near snarled, whispered with too much emphasis, hot breath panted against him, and Wilson was stunned into silence for a moment, cock aching between his legs, a panting body underneath him warm and sweaty with pent up arousal, and if he looked down, broke eye contact with those pitch black, shiny shiny eyes, he'd see his partner just as wet and ready as he was.

No preparing required it seemed, but Wilsons sense haven't left him yet and with sudden determination he snuck his own hand down to palm against Maxwells sunken gut, down lower, right into-

The sound that came out of that toothy mouth was almost terrifying, gasped and torn out from surprise, those black eyes widening, as if Maxwell hadn't expected Wilson to actually do that. His claws were dull things compared to Maxwells, but warm slick coated his palm not even half a second after and he wiggled his claws just to make the other man wither in the sensation.

A bit of payback from earlier, Wilson decided, and his own cheeky grin was what Maxwell saw when those eyes rose back up with some effort, great heaving gasps as Wilson blindly explored. He damned the lack of nerves his fingers had, bone claws not at all up to task, but Maxwell had his taloned hands grabbing tight to his arms, withering and shuddering for every breath as he rubbed and circled his claws in a vaguely familiar fashion that he's done before.

Seeing the mans face so slack, mouth open and eyes wide and glazed, bony back arching up to press his thin body against Wilsons, brushing against his erection each time and making him wheeze a low laugh, Wilson indulged in the sudden wash of power this gave him.

Just like what Maxwell had been getting, jacking him off earlier. Unlike Wilson, however, Maxwell could recuperate much, much faster.

He also had less stamina to run on.

With a sudden sharp arch of his back, talons clinging sharply to his shoulders and dragging burning lines, a silent gasp burst from the other man's throat, muscles tensing about Wilson's clawed hand. He slowed down a bit, mindful as those hips bucked against him, his claws and palm now very, very wet, and when Maxwell finally collapsed down panting he pulled his hand away.

Slick shined over his claws, not an often sight for him really, and Wilson examined it a moment before tentatively sticking his tongue out and giving it a try.

For science and all, not, not because he had been struck with a sudden urge to do so. In the past Maxwell had been more than happy to lick him clean at times, a very odd request that had ended up being rather sensual after all, so perhaps he should return the favor.

It turned out, however, that Maxwell was not particularly pleasant to actually taste. He couldn't help the disgusted look on his face, the taste of oily nightmare fuel and musk sending shivers up his spine, once more another puzzle piece to think of later, but when he glanced down Maxwell was grinning at him.

Jagged bared teeth, the smile twisted and only faintly exhausted from having climaxed now, great heaved panting as those shiny eyes locked upon his own and didn't look away, barely blinked even.

Wilson opened his mouth, a bit hesitant, maybe he shouldn't have done that actually, before those taloned hands dragged him right back down again.

His back was going to sting to high heaven after this, he could just tell, but Maxwell was staring at him with an expression that seemed more unhinged than usual, which was something due to the fact that Maxwell was very, very much mentally unhinged at the moment. More words rose up within him, a 'maybe we should stop', but then a hand shot down to his still hard cock and Wilson's mind blanked as he was very suddenly pressed up against the other man's still very wet groin.

It was teasing, that was what it was, and he was so on edge by now, having near blown a few times in this space of time as they foreplayed, but now Wilson could see that look in the other man's eyes, the one not even this shadowy manic energy could get rid of, something deeper, and he knew what that meant, what that was asking for.

Maxwell didn't speak, just panted for breath, swallowing thickly as his talons carefully rubbed the head of Wilson's cock against his slit, a silent question, staring at him as the fog of shadows and solitude and complete feral madness lifted for a split second.

The warmth of the man atop him, firm and anchored and not the fever heat of shadows and darkness and gibbered wailing out in the caverns, it was strong and real and very much right here, above him now, dull claws holding firm to his arms, still and tense and waiting.

For a moment, a seed of sanity graced him and vaguely he realized that, perhaps, the man pressed up just so against him was not, in fact, a cruel shadow of his imagination.

And then Wilson breathlessly nodded, mouth open as he panted shallow, that hot taloned hand rubbing his cockhead slow against even warmer, slicker flesh. If he waited any longer, he may not last.

With that the crooked toothy grin returned tenfold, splitting as Maxwell gasped an airy, shaky breath, head falling back as Wilson was guided flush against him.

A pressurized exhale left Wilson, a shudder up his spine as he shivered, the feeling familiar in an unfamiliar, rather delicious way.

It's been too damn long since they've done this together.

Whatever vague blocks that had been setting in his mind earlier were now dropped the moment he was pressed flush, hot and trembling as he panted, as that thin bony chest under him sucked in great breaths of air, as those talons dug into the flesh of his back and held tight. For a moment they were still, trying to get the dizzy swell of air in him under control, that pressure under his belly heady and almost too much now. 

And then those talons twitched, that mouth rose back up to press to his neck, right almost cheekily against that new sore spot, the one that burned against his throat now, and that was enough, a hot exhale against his ear, for Wilson to be given the go ahead.

Even with his muscles sore from all that he has done today, all that he has done throughout his time in this twisted dark world, it was a very familiar practice to anchor himself up and to thrust his hips forward, angled down as he leaned over the hot body clinging to him and gasping for breath. It swelled inside him, a heated pressure rising up as he climbed for it, clawed hands going to that thin bony waist to get a firmer hold on. Those talons scratched more red blossomed lines down his back, sharp silent gasps as every thrust knocked the air from his partners lungs, firm movements as Wilson half closed his eyes and chased it.

There was reciprocation, hips bucking against his own to meet his thrusts, grinding against him and then holding tight as to keep him close for longer and longer, bony knees pressing to his sides, tangling with his own legs, and Maxwell's eyes were squeezed shut, face snarled and prickling teeth against his shoulder as he held to Wilson, the shuddery wet heat squeezing near perfectly against him, around him.

In the back of his mind, Wilson was thankful that his comment of 'two minutes' was unfounded. Even so teased earlier, and having brought Maxwell to climax without really thinking about what they were aiming for, it was static and blood rushing in his ears as Maxwell gasped and groaned, as he wheezed faint huffing moans with each rock into that accepting warmth, slick and fluids between them as Wilson rode the building high in a dizzy swell of nerves.

And then those talons dug deep, deeper than before, dragging down his back as his partner made a wheezed noise, coughed out almost in a hoarse burst and arch of his back, pressing his hips right flush against Wilson, tensing legs about him in a tangled rush and a sudden piercing shot of pain as Maxwell clamped his jaws to his bare shoulder and let out a muffled groan.

Pain mixed with pleasure, thrusting deep as he felt the shudder, felt it through the man he was joined with, and then it shot through him and Wilson couldn't bite back his own near shout of pleasure, bursting into that warm slippery heat that had taken him and he it.

For a moment longer his thighs trembled, barely keeping himself up as he rocked slow, dragging himself back and forth against the convulsing flesh of his partner, a new wet heat to the mix, Maxwell tightening and then loosening around him, finally untensing with a silent shallow wheeze. He could vaguely feel a trickle of blood falling from his shoulder, hot panting against his skin, and with an exhausted exhale Wilson collapsed upon the other man, sweaty chest to sweaty chest, his dull claws clasped to those bony hips and those horrid talons scraping deep, still clinging to his bare back. 

For a few moments more, silent save both their panting and the odd shaky exhales and winces as a tongue lapped at the punctures, lazily cleaning him up, Wilson closed his eyes and worked on getting his breath back, pain numbing out slowly. The sweaty heat was sticky, humid, especially where they were still together, a stuffiness the tent lent as his bliss addled mind slowly started to defog.

And then there was a twitch, movement, and those blacked talons unhooked from his inflamed back, one pressing slow, clumsily against his shoulder a moment, a brief spot of soreness.

"...Off."

The word, command was familiar, a jolt into Wilson's brain as he felt the vaguest of deja vu, but he wasn't one to not oblige a simple request. A ragged wheeze whistled out of him as he slowly sat up, pulling out of his partner and wincing at the glimpse of sticky fluids, before he heavily turned and let himself slide down beside Maxwell. The other man's eyes were open, half lidded and swirling with that odd, almost blinded look about them, the simplest upturn of his face blank, content and empty headed for the moment. Thankfully, Wilson thought, there wasn't a trace of his blood on the other man's lips, only those jagged stained teeth.

He'd need to check on the bite later, that was for sure.

Slowly those pitch black eyes glittered, traveled over to Wilson as he laid on his side, watching idly as he finally calmed his breathing, the buzzing static in his limbs fading as well as the heady warmth pooled in his joints. A relaxed, stretched feeling, finally done, calmed, pent up pressure gone for now.

It was odd, but for once Wilson couldn't see the same fatigue in the other man's eyes, only a strange sort of shiny reflection.

Perhaps, Wilson thought, swallowing thickly as he laid boneless and spent with the other man beside him, close enough to touch once more, perhaps he _shouldn't_ have done what had been done.

Maxwell wasn't in his right mind, he remembered, and yet he had let himself be dragged in here and now he just had sex with a man who may not be entirely mentally stable. 

That… _really_ didn't sit right with him, Wilson realized.

Before Wilson could voice anything, defuse what had just happened or even try to calm his dawning fluttering panic, Maxwell sat up with a low wheezed groan.

His lungs still rattled with each breath, deep inhales, whisper strained exhales, and Wilson blinked in silence before pushing himself up as well.

For the moment his thoughts turned, organizing as he tried to figure out what to say, perhaps an apology of sorts, but before he even had the chance to those monstrous oil stained talons were cupped about his cheeks and glowing, swirling foggy black eyes stared into his own.

He was shocked into stillness, struggling as he tried to think of a response, but then he had to squint his eyes as too sharp talons brushed a bit too close to his eye sockets.

"...You want to know something that may interest you, pal?"

Maxwells voice was low, a bit hoarse now, but even after all that Wilson started to tense up, own hands raised but not daring to touch the talons keeping him still. His words were odd to receive, especially after just having sex with the man, and Wilsons swallowed heavily, a frown twitching on his face as something more expressionless fell upon Maxwells hollow face.

One taloned thumb rubbed up way too close, making Wilson squint and have to close his left eye as there was the briefest flutter of panic in his chest. Discomfort rose up in his throat, open eye watering as he sucked in silent breathes, in out, and Maxwell stared at him, deep in his eyes, pitch black swirled smoggy shadows opening up into a void filled with bottomless madness.

"I…" The man's voice hitched a moment, wheezed faintly, but his eye contact was unwavering, staring Wilson down. "I very much want to hurt you, Wilson."

A moment of shocked silence, threaded with the threat in the air, that dark, dangerous neede thin hint lacing Maxwells voice, and Wilson's mind turned as quickly as it could in the post coital haze he was still under. At least that was fading a bit quicker now, a faint pressure pressed to just under his eye, dragging up higher inch by inch, the prick of sharp talons getting too close for comfort.

Words rose in his throat, any number of ways bouncing around in a still slow chaos of danger to himself, and the strongest ones were the simplest.

'Don't.' was one, billowing firm in his throat, and another was a somewhat quieter 'Why?'. 

Wilson, after a moment of silence, feeling Maxwell's talons rub and twist and drag uncomfortably tight to his skin, those dark eyes empty of sanity and yet brimming with a cloud of swollen emotions, chose to go with the latter.

"...Why?"

His voice was quiet, simple, brief, and Maxwell paused, blinked slowly at him.

"I…" His voice trailed, strained, and Wilson may not be calm internally but he breathed slow, kept himself still with these hot talons cupping his face, sharp dagger points pressing to his skin in bitter threat. "I don't…"

Those pitch black eyes swirled, a haze of the familiar ink darkness and something else, an oily shade twisting and coiling, a smog filming over like calloused blindness. The talons on his face seemed to ease up, loosen, and Wilson squinted and blinked his eyes, the hot palms of his partner, lover, deformed monstrous things furnace hot to his skin, pressed just so against him.

Something rose in those pitch black eyes, rose and twisted and meshed with the smoky blindness, and Wilson stared, still and quiet as Maxwells breath started to rasp, wheeze in and out with a bit more strain now.

He looked lost, Wilson realized, lost and confused. Maxwell was completely and utterly mad, he could reason that out easily enough, but he could see, right in front of him, that the old, diminished man was lost and confused and…

...and scared.

Wilson moved slow, hesitant, wary of making too sharp a movement and getting lashed out at, and it had always been hard pinpointing where Maxwell looked with his pitch black eyes void of white, pupil, color of any sort. Now, with whatever oily smoke it was that clung to the man like an illness, it was near impossible to guess his gazes direction, only the faint twitch of his talons against Wilson's face, the shift of his head as he watched Wilsons own hands rise up.

His dull talons clicked together softly, faint, nervous, but he moved slow and steady, finally spreading his bone talons and pressing his palms to Maxwell's hollow cheeks, an almost mirror reflection to the hot talons caging his own face in.

Unlike that, however, Wilson didn't try to be firm, forceful, intruding. Instead, still moving slow, he carefully rubbed a dull thumb in small, shallow circles, pressing faintly to the thin skin and bones that was Maxwell's narrow cheekbones, an easing, familiar motion he's done before.

Never with anything at stake, mind, but his history with Maxwell was a long, extensive, complex thing. 

The man has been down in the dark for too long, once again, but this time there had been no Throne to tether him, keep him halfway anchored to reality. Whatever was wrong with this world, it has done no amount of good for its former ruler and King, and now he seemed to have even less of a grip on reality than ever before, perhaps none at all anymore.

But, as Maxwell recognized his touch, his offering of comfort and familiarity, the shift as those talons loosened up even more, now just barely touching him as the man's empty pitch black eyes slowly closed, leaning his head into Wilson's hands, maybe there was still something there.

Wilson drew in a shaky breath, steadied it within him before releasing it, Maxwells talons finally sliding away from his face to go limp in his lap instead. Naked as they both were, Maxwell still radiated an unwholesome amount of heat, unnatural, and with his palms to the mans face Wilson could feel the warmth even more so now.

He felt it before, as they had gotten down to their previous activities. It, it felt almost as if the man had a fever.

The oily, clammy heat, pale drained face, his greasy unkempt hair and overall uncared for appearance...perhaps Maxwell was ill, more ill than he had ever previously thought.

A shuttered sigh was heaved against him, weak and yet too heavy really, and Wilson rubbed his clawed thumb in soft circles and let his mind wander, thinking as silence fell between them, a comforting familiarity missing from their interactions from the get go.

He'll find a way to help, Wilson decided. Even in this horrid twisted place, devoid of sunlight and only the caves offering a semi safe refuge, even as burdened by the dark as he himself was down here, Wilson will help bring Maxwell back from the brink of insanity.

Black humor graced him for a moment, as Wilson realized that this was the only thing he _could_ do with himself down here.

Unless he wanted to go mad as well, that is, and later he'd give a half hearted chuckle at the idea.

For now, he sat with Maxwell, hands cradling the older mans head, before guiding him slow and easy into leaning against him instead, nose tucked to the dip of his neck and collarbone. Warm breath, too warm breath exhaled shallowly against his still sweat slick skin, the sore spot from earlier tingling faintly, and Wilson heaved a silent sigh, Maxwell wrapped with a comforting hug in his lap, and silently promised he would do all he can to help him.

To help them both, he amended. To help them both.


End file.
